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This is a story based on true events with some imagination added.
His name was Jamie.
My name is irrelevant, as now I'm known only as faggot, at least to my Master Jamie. This has been the case for several months now, and in that time he has taken me into new depths of humiliation and service to the young Adonis. I have worshipped him and he has allowed me the great honour of relocating my, His, fagcash from my pocket to where it always belonged, in his. Thats right, I'm his pay piggy, ATM, walking wallet, what is you want to call it. The lowest of the low for faggots, but luckily my parents gave me a trust fund to use to start my career. They don't know it is now draining inexorably to my young straight muscle Master. Here is the story of how He came into my life and showed me what a real, young, straight God uses faggot losers like me for.
I'm not too shabby myself, having worked out for a few years and at twenty five am, I've been told, a pretty good catch. I'm gay, out to some people, but have always shied away from relationships. To be honest, the guys I met didn't interest me. They were too nice, they chased me and wooed me but I could never get excited over them. I was always attracted to the bullies, the alphas, the studs who went about with the cocky attitude only true studs have, but they rarely looked at me, until Master Jamie.
I had been going to the local fitness place to work out for about a year. It was one of those places that had a pool, steam room, jacuzzi and had a pretty mixed crowd. Lots of soccer moms on their afternoon away from the kids, working off the snickers bar they'd grabbed after the school run. Dad's too, doing much the same, looking like overgrown schoolboys in their gym gear. It was a pleasant place, though, and I always felt relaxed after a work out there.
There were some fit dudes too. The guys who put in time every day, who lived for it, exalted in becoming stronger. It was hard not to watch. I'd be subtle, you know. Those mirrors are all around for a reason, right? And those few times I got caught looking the guys liked it. That's part of their motivation, they like being admired, worshipped. There would be a brief meeting of the eyes, a twitch of a smile, and then an extra hard rep to show off what he can do.
That was all, until I locked eyes with Him. He had seen me looking as he worked the shoulder press. He was wearing a red vest, Nike I think, black shorts, white sneakers. The first thing I noticed was his skin. It was flawless and stretched over his defined torso like a silk shawl on marble. He had soft brown hair and eyes, and a face that was both boyish and masculine at the same time. It was one of those moments when time seems to stop, or just not matter anymore. I could have been looking for a second or a minute, it felt the same. The curl of his neck to his ear, a perfect shell. Then I met His eyes, and he was looking back.
I looked away in wingbeat, my heart the startled bird. I felt in danger but I couldn't explain why. I was also powerfully curious. It had looked, for a moment, that in His eyes there had been a flicker of invitation. Something of the vanity of the other guys but somehow more real, more profound. I looked back and again met that look. He held it, held me, as he forced another hard rep before gently leaning his head to kiss the firm shoulder muscles he'd just been using, his look never leaving me.
I felt something in my crotch. It was like a weight pulling at my taint, sending a shock of pleasure through my balls and along my dick. Man, I was getting a semi right there. Luckily I'm not big down there because I could almost smell the heat from this guy even eight feet away. I shifted on the bench anyway out of instinct and he let out a chuckle.
"Hey faggot, don't look at what you can't afford". His drawl didn't seem at all affected by the exercise he'd just done. O was surprised at how deep his voice sounded, his baby face belied his masculinity a little, but his voice brought it back into sharp focus. This was a real man talking to me, and something deep in me responded before I could even think.
"I'm, I'm sorry, Sir." I said. I didn't have time to feel embarrassed before he replied. Why had I said Sir?
"You can pay me later, faggot. I'm gonna need a drink in about sixty seconds. You best run to the machine now." I stood and started to step towards the vending machine before remembering my semi hard dick. I quickly tucked it up into the waistband before turning to ask "Would you like water, Sir?". He grunted in reply as he did another rep, and I took that to be "yes".
Luckily I had a card that the machine took that charged the drink to my gym account. I hadn't used it much before as I usually bring a bottle from home, but the transaction worked and I soon heard the crank-clunk of the bottle hitting the tray. My dick surged as it happened. I grabbed it and almost ran back to where this young God was finishing on the press. I opened the lid and handed him the bottle.
"Good, faggot. I knew you'd be an obedient little bitch." My heart and dick jumped again at his words, but my mouth went dry and my head went empty of anything to say. He was right. There was nothing I wanted to do in that moment but wait on his next word. "You can hide that little dicklet, but real men can always sniff you faggots out. I'm Jamie, but to you I'm Master. Got that, faggot?"
I found my voice somewhere in a hurried moment. "Yes Master. I understand Master."
He sniggered, shoulders shaking. "Man, you bitch boys make my day. I think you'll be making a lot of my days better. I think you're going to be useful".
I didn't know what he meant exactly, but I knew in that moment that the only correct answer could be "Yes Master, thank you." So I gave it. I wanted to give anything for this young, muscled God.
"Good bitch. Now wipe down this machine. I'm hitting the shower." He stood and I saw his perfect ass, and I saw the sweaty imprint it left on the black vinyl seat. I quickly grabbed my towel and was about to wipe it. "No, faggot. Kiss the seat first. I know you want to kiss my ass but that's the closest you'll get for now."
Damn, it was like he was reading my mind, or maybe he was putting the thoughts in there. Even so I was conscious about how public this was. The gym wasn't busy but there were a few people there. I knelt and, trying to be as discreet as possible I leant close and kissed the still warm seat. He laughed again. "Now say thank you, bitch."
"Thank you Master." The shame burned through me but I was more turned on than ever. Something about submitting to this hot, arrogant young stud was making my dick strain and leak in my shorts.
"Haha, man you're such a pushover faggot. Meet me outside when I'm done. I'm getting hungry so you're buying me lunch, bitch." I glanced up at him again, his brown eyes, so boyish yet so masculine, his handsome young face smirking down at me.
"Yes Master. Thank you again." I said and quickly wiped down the machine he'd been using.
"Good girl." He said and then left for the lockers, whistling as he went. I watched him as he departed, that ass, his thick shoulders, defined back, moving with masculine assurance. I hurried to gather my things and excitedly headed to the lockers myself. I was in no fit state to shower with my dick so hard and wet, and besides Master (I was already thinking of him that way) had not given permission to shower near him, so I changed into my street clothes and headed out to wait for him as instructed. Little did I know at the time that I was about to become completely owned by this stud I had only met minutes ago, but that's a story for next time.
Contact Master Jamie on fagdrainerjamie@gmail.com if you wish to request him to order me to write the next part. I can be reached on devonguy12345@gmail.com for feedback etc.